Airborn
by 1uvakindmom
Summary: One-shot set in the 1987 show, Michelangelo decides that Raphael needs to cut loose a little and he decides to give him a hang gliding lesson. Takes place in early Season 5. Pure brotherly fluff.


**Disclaimer: Same as always, I don't own the TMNT. **

**A/N: I got the idea for this one-shot today when watching an episode of OT with my boys. In "Raphael vs. The Volcano" Raph had one line which spawned this bunny: "I guess all those hang gliding lessons from Michelangelo weren't a total waste after all!" This takes place sometime in early season 5. Just brotherly fluff :D**

"Why do I keep letting myself get talked into this stuff?"

Raphael gripped the bar in front of himself, his gloved hands grasping the tube of metal with a desperate force. He could feel the layer of sweat from his clammy hands soaking into the material of the gloves. The wind gusted around him frantically, rimming around his goggles and stinging his skin with the blustery chill of the mid-autumn air. His gaze was fixed down the vastness of the cliff before him, eyes wide and rimming with the nervousness his pride was attempting to hide from his younger brother. Far below lay an expansive carpet of dull colors, the distant trees underneath a mix of brown and washed out reds and golds interspersed with spindly bare branches which seemed to be skeletal fingers reaching for him, trying eagerly to stretch the span to pluck him from where he stood.

"I should have stayed home…" the red masked turtle mumbled uneasily to himself.

"What was that, dude?" his companion questioned.

Raphael tore his eyes from the cliff and snapped his attention to his brother, Michelangelo. The younger mutant had a huge, goofy grin on his face, shining with excitement like rays of sun peeking through the clouds. Only Raphael was the clouds, and his scowl the impending thunderstorm. Michelangelo was uncomfortably close to him, and he would have shied away to create more space, if he weren't completely hooked up to the glider above him. Mike was securely attached to it as well with a similarly elaborate network of tethers which had obviously been rigged up by an overenthusiastic Donatello.

"I said…" Raphael raised his voice to compete with the howling wind, "I. Should. Have. Stayed. _Home._" He bitterly enunciated each word, punctuating them with his reluctance.

"Don't sweat it, compadre," Mike commented, picking up on Raphael's anxiousness. He placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder. "There's nothing here to be scared of, dude. We ride in the Turtle Blimp glider all the time. This is totally the same."

"Scared?" Raphael scoffed as if offended. "Who said I was scared? I can just think of a zillion things I would rather be doing than putting my life in your hands. I might as well be saving up for my funeral right now."

"Donatello made this glider, dude, I just volunteered pilot it and teach you to use it," Mike explained, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

Raphael crossed his arms defiantly and turned his head away sharply. "And the fact that _Donatello_ put this thing together is supposed to make me _feel better_? The guy who I swear is looking to get into the Guinness Book for most consecutive explosions? If mutant turtles were meant to fly, we would have sprouted wings in that ooze puddle."

"Turtle Blimp, dude, Turtle Blimp…"

"No way, Michelangelo, this is 'mondo different, dude'" Raphael replied cheekily in a crude approximation of Mike's voice.

Mike's enthusiastic expression refused to fade. It reminded Raph of an annoying stain on his favorite mask which refused to come out no matter how many times he washed the darn thing. This was indeed _very_ different from the Blimp. At least on that thing he had something underneath him, or a steering wheel. This hang glider felt flimsy in comparison: sharp green wings curved over his head, and a long metal bar was all he had to steer with. Michelangelo had briefly explained that the glider was steered by shifting body weight, much like a surfboard, and Raph had snarkily replied that he didn't surfboard either.

"Dude, trust me," Mike said in his most soothing tone, his voice sure, "one day you will _thank_ me for this."

Raph's wavering regard returned to the cliff. He endeavored in vain to swallow the uncomfortable lump in his throat as his feet fidgeted apprehensively, the cool soil shifting under his toes. "I swear my ghost is going to haunt you forever, Michelangelo…you will never be able to eat another piece of pizza without peeing your pants."

Michelangelo shrugged non-chalantly. "Well, then, amigo, I guess it's a good thing I don't wear pants. But I think it's time you put on _your_ big boy pants and we get this show on the road!"

Without warning, Michelangelo broke into a sprint. Raphael had no choice but to match the speed, or end up dragging on the ground. It was only a few steps to the cliff edge, and Raph's hands instinctively flung up to cover his eyes as the cliff's jagged edge loomed closer. He felt the sharp ledge dig into each foot, and then the stomach wrenching sensation of falling.

"COWABUNGA!" Michelangelo shouted into the wind.

Raphael heard himself shouting, but it wasn't completely registering in his ears. _This is it, _his freaked mind raced like a rat caught in a maze, _I'm done for…_

Then it seemed almost as soon as it started, he sensed a leveling off. The red clad ninja pried a sliver of an opening in his fingers and peered through. The trees below now whizzed by as if caught in a kaleidoscope, the myriad of fall colors melding into a muddy blur. It took a few moments for the reality of it to click in his mind; that his feet had no purchase and the wind was buffeting his whole body in violent, angry torrents. He could feel the gusts of air curling through the jacket he wore, luffing the fabric like unaligned boat sails. The tails on his belt were striking against his plastron sharply. The panic began to bubble uncontrolled to the surface and his feet unconsciously began to scissor about, seeking something solid to stand on. The glider began to sway to the side from the unintentional shift in weight, which in turn set Raphael on edge even more. He let out a startled yelp as the glider took a sideways dive toward the ground.

"RAPHAEL! We're good, dude, I got this," Mike pushed himself to the right on the bar and the glider evened out again. "See? Just chill…chill, bro."

"CHILL?" Raphael snapped, his breath coming in jagged gasps. "I'm as chill as I can be! I'm already cold blooded!"

Mike chuckled slightly in amusement. He wished Raph could enjoy this as much as he did. It was not often they got to enjoy the warmth of the sun on their skin or its glare in their eyes. The reptile in him savored the relaxing lull of the light; he closed his eyes and savored the feeling of freedom that came with it. He was aware it was fleeting, that they would soon return to the city and their underground home, but for now he wanted to soak up every morsel of it that he could – like a child licking clean the desert tray, not wanting to miss a crumb. Between their training, being heroes and having to hide from the humans who considered them freaks, the brothers did not have much time to be what they really were at heart…teenagers.

Mike let out a delighted hoot as he brought the glider down into a vicious nose-dive. Raphael gulped as the ground came barreling closer to him at break-neck speed. Just before reaching the trees, Mike shifted and brought the duo up in a graceful arc. In the distance, an extensive lake lined the horizon, the sun glittering off its surface like playful diamonds. Some birds flocked around them, seemingly curious about this unfamiliar craft in their skies. They called to one another questioningly.

"Raphael…" Michelangelo spoke in a low, serious tone, but one that commanded attention. "Just look, dude. I didn't drag you out here to torture you or kill you. Just…look."

Raphael took a deep breath, the crisp autumn air filling his nose. For the first time, he _really_ took in what was around him. Raphael would be the first to admit that he wasn't always the most observant of the quartet. His talents lay in his wordplay and wit; and he wasn't much of an outdoorsman, having been raised in a city and…maybe…just maybe…having a little bit of an unhealthy obsession with the television. But this…even he had to admit was nice…once he got over the idea of plummeting rather unceremoniously to his death, or possibly swallowing a bug. That wasn't a nice thought either.

"See, dude?" Mike broke the silence when he felt his brother finally relax. "No obligations, no Shredder, no evil scientist dudes, no Leonardo hounding us to train, just two bros enjoying a tubular view, and all without having to stop some bogus anti-gravity device."

For the first time that day, Raphael allowed himself to smile slightly. "I guess, Michelangelo. This isn't too bad," his smile grew, "for having to hang out with _you_," he finished facetiously. "Cuz heaven knows Leonardo would be a yawn-fest and Donatello would give me a headache. So I _guess_ having to deal with you is not so bad."

"Awww," Michelangelo returned in the same joking tone, "I always knew I was your favorite brother!"

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far, Michelangelo," the wise guy smirked, "but no one can give me a good bantering like you can!"

Raphael gazed up at the glider above them, watching as the wispy clouds snaked through the sky overheard. He turned back to his younger brother, his expression growing devious.

"What else can this baby do?"

Michelangelo chuckled lightheartedly.

"Dude, you ain't seen nothing yet…"

**A/N: Thoughts? I was trying to look more into the OT Turtle's interactions outside of the crime-fighting. Hope it worked! Thanks for reading!**


End file.
